The news that Duchess Meghan of Markle, Britain’s favourite American, has a right royal bun in the oven by dashing sex maniac Prince Harry brings a smile to the faces of all patriotic Britons. An absent-minded smile, the quiet smile of a polite, proud people as it visualises the Duke and Duchess of Sussex, butt naked in various positions, and tries to guess which one it was that resulted in conception. It’s a national game of Clue.
This may seem intrusive, but the royals have never had their sex so privately. In the good old days, royalty mated like pandas, with difficulty and before an approving audience. A royal wedding was a diplomatic union, not a love match. The parties were often betrothed as children, and the opening manoeuvres of the wedding night were watched by various ambassadors, dukes and bishops, just to make sure. Now that’s what I call media access.
How things have changed in England Land. These days, it’s the royals who make love matches, and the public, or at least certain segments of it, who carry on like the royalty of old. Some of the descendants of immigrants from India and Pakistan still persist with charmingly traditional habits of arranged marriage, which is not illegal in Britain, and child marriage, which is illegal, though that didn’t stop the British authorities from turning a blind eye for decades.
Meanwhile, the less traditional English have developed peculiar hobbies like ‘dogging’, in which exhibitionists have sex in parks and woods, and voyeurs, under the pretext of walking the dog, get to watch. There is, of course, no reason to believe that Meghan and Harry’s baby was conceived by dogging. Yes, the couple have two dogs, and the urban park of Kensington Gardens is on their doorstep. But they’re royals. The servants walk the dogs on their behalf.
The big question is whether the baby’s mother will exercise her right as a US citizen and apply for a US passport for the newborn. If she does, the baby would be the first British prince or princess to have a claim to be an American since the days of George III. The big answer is, no way, are you mad?
The royals are not quite as stupid as they look. You don’t get to keep the throne for a thousand years without a good tax lawyer. Like the British Empire of old, the sun never sets on the purviews of the IRS. A royal baby with American nationality would be exposed to global taxation. Sorry, America. Meghan will sell your infant royal out for a mess of pottage, or porridge and kippers, or whatever they eat for breakfast at Buckingham Palace.
Still, let’s just enjoy this moment of relief and celebration. Relief that it All Works Down There for the royal lovebirds, and celebration that the most inbred and famous family in the world has managed to sign up for another season. There’s so much to look forward to: the decorating of the nursery and the buying of the pony; the creation of heraldic officers, the Doula Royal and the Keeper of the Netflix; and of course, the livestreaming of the birth on Facebook
As for the name, how about something non-gender specific that’s recognisably British but also suitable for a spring arrival: Baby Brexit.
Dominic Green is Life & Arts Editor of Spectator USA.
